Even a Blind Squirrel Gets Run Over By A Car Every Once In A While

I can't see. Well, that's actually a lie since I can actually see with the invention of corrective lenses and contacts. The fact I started this post with a lie is probably condescending to the readership of this blog, but lying is part of America and if you don't like America then you can move. Possibly to Hawaii because judging by the fury that our President was born in Hawaii which apparently is not part of this country I think it's safe to say that Hawaii is not recognized by the American government as a state.

Surfers don't have passports.

Ever since I can remember I've worn glasses or contact lenses. My actual first memory of anything is when I was 8 and complaining to my grandfather that the glasses itched my nose. I did what any respectful 8 year old would do in the situation. I threw the glasses down and cried. Then stomped around. Then begged for ice cream. Then peed the bed. Regardless of my urinating habits corrective lenses have been a huge part of my life thanks to my parents’ inability to actually acquire some worthwhile DNA.

Chubby + 4 eyes + Indian + under 5'6" tall parents = DNA Bankruptcy

Growing up I hated everything about my glasses. You see the late 1980s and early 1990s was a wasteland for good face wear. No one back then looked good with glasses. I didn’t think one girl with glasses was good looking then, now I think they all are. I’m lonely. The large framed glasses of the 1950s have made a comeback to be retro and hip. The early 90s decided that if you had a vision problem you would look like this.




The sad part of that picture is that I looked exactly like that except brown and wearing a horrendously outdated REPLICA Joe Montana Kansas City Chiefs jersey. (Indian parents like 50 percent deals). My prescription was (and is) so bad that the lenses would be too thick to fit into any type of cool frame. Whenever I tell anybody my prescription they go “I didn’t know it went that high, are you legally blind?”

Snapple Fact #481: If Stevie Wonder wore my glasses he could actually see.

So I would go to school wishing I would look like Rivers Cuomo from Weezer who looked just like Buddy Holly, but instead I looked Urkel with a dandruff issue. And no Pert Plus to be seen. I was traumatized by my glasses. I tried to hide them whenever I could, but then would just run into a wall or into oncoming traffic. My parents refused to raise a Mr. Magoo so they yelled at me. When I told them the cultural significance of Mr. Magoo, they yelled some more. Magoo, I still love you, no matter what my immigrant parents say. Fist bump explosion. When I entered 8th grade, my mom finally told me I could get contacts and it was the best news I ever got. I was the only kid in my school with contact lenses, an ability to grow a beard, and stuck at the bottom of the rope at gym class.

Trifecta of Sexiness. Ladies?

So for the past 17 years I’ve had to wear contacts and have almost never worn my glasses in public. I hate them. I honestly don’t think any of my friends have seen me wear glasses in 10 years. The only glasses I wear in public are the $9.99 kind I can buy on the Venice boardwalk that’s conveniently located next to the medical marijuana evaluation centers. Seems like the perfect partnership. Hotbox. Sunglasses. 5-0, will never know. Last week I went to the eye doctor and wanted to ask about LASIK surgery. I don’t mind wearing contacts, but it would be nice to wake up in the morning and not have to stick my face literally half an inch from the alarm clock so I could see it. It’s not a joke. In the special once every 4 year event that a woman sleeps over, the conversation always gets awkward.

Me- “Hey, what time is it?”
Girl- “Can you not see that? It’s right there? 9:15.”
Me- “Nope, can’t see it.”
Girl- “BUT IT’S RIGHT THERE, you can touch the clock.”
Me- “Yeah I know, can’t see it.”
Girl- “Can you see anything. (Holds up fingers)
Me- “Nope. Wait, you’re a woman right?”

That has happened more than once.

While at the doctor I asked her about LASIK. I knew it would probably cost a little bit more because my eye sight is so poor, but I wanted a rough estimate. She looked at me, looked at her notes, looked at me (probably because I spilled some BBQ sauce on my shirt at lunch), looked down again and said, “Oh, you can get LASIK, but you’re high risk, so you’ll probably have to still wear glasses. I’ll refer you to a good surgeon.” Oh, goody gumdrops. Let me get lasers in my eyeballs and STILL wear glasses. Where do I sign up? Here? No? How about here? In a life filled with humongous disappointments including being cut from the high school basketball team 4 straight years, being turned down for dates by numerous women and actually eating the flavored seasoning from the Ramen packet for no money, this was the cherry on top. All I wanted was to see without any restrictions. It will never happen.

Me and Magoo. Table for Two.